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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854508">Ache</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyMcRaely/pseuds/HeyMcRaely'>HeyMcRaely</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Joker (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:28:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>233</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyMcRaely/pseuds/HeyMcRaely</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The type of love that's there for you to slip into easily, first thing when you wake up. The type that fills the longing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arthur Fleck/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written Valentine's Night. Based on a very real sensation I used to wake up with.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>you feel it like a fruit feels a bruise.</p><p>it’s morning. the winter sun is high in the window and you wake with a gentle ache in your chest. it’s like you’ve gone soft in the breastbone, center stage, at the front of your rib cage. it feels like wanting, like something’s missing, some reassuring weight. the yearning of it brings you to stretch in the blankets. you roll over, murmuring into the pillow. too early to open your mouth or your eyes. even without looking you feel Arthur asleep beside you. with a deep breath through his nose he moves instinctively; his arm arches over, encircling you, sliding you backwards across the bed into his chest where his mouth buries itself in a thick exhale into the crook of your neck. he holds you in his angular embrace, squeezed safe between his bicep and his ribs, his thin body the only barrier he can muster between you and the world. eyes still closed, you take his hand from where it’s tucked underneath you and you bring it to that ache at the center of your chest, where you’re sensitive and breathless. his palm presses into your skin there, knowing what you need, even in his sleep. his lips are firm and warm against the back of your head and you sink back into sleep knowing this is what the ache is for.</p>
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